


A Song of Sparks and Energon

by spadey



Series: A Song of Sparks and Energon [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-01 02:33:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spadey/pseuds/spadey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the distant Planet of Cybertron, there are two types of people, those who have power, and those who crave it. When a blanket of war covers the planet, the line between those two groups of people will be blurred to the point of not existing. The stentch of war fills the air and the innocent and guilty will know the powers of both groups. One group shall fall, and one group shall stand, taller then ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Prologue**

The King’s council met practically every orbital cycle, thanks to the sudden commotion of Cybertron’s next greatest war. With the rebellion sprouting in Kaon and the other Wasteland Cities, the grand Prime-King needed his advisors more than he needed his sparkbeat. When Flamewar forcibly pulled herself back into the conversation, the Mistress of Law only heard Ultra Magnus’s drooling tone rambling and on about the opinions of smallfolk.

“My Lady,” the Grand Maester brought her forward, and being the only femme present at the meeting, Flamewar sat up a little bit straighter. “What are your opinions on this rebellion?

Orion Pax was nothing but the son of a once-great house who had lost everything, including any bloodline they wished to have. Flamewar’s only belief on House Pax’s demise was that they deserved it. Lykon Pax had been a slaver, and though slavery was not illegal -and she knew every law out there- it was highly discouraged among nobles. Only in the Wasteland Cities did Cybertronians buy and sell their own kind.

“Orion,” They were all staring at her, and though Ser Ironhide, Commander of the Kingsguard, looked as if his face would crack after another word, whether it was funny or not, Flamewar knew they valued her opinion. After her father had dismissed himself from the King’s council, King Zeta Prime had chosen her himself to be his mistress of Law, a rare rank for a femme of any birthclass. “-and my other dearest associates,” she chose her words carefully, as to not draw Ironhide’s inner ire out upon her. “My opinion is that this rebellion makes a fool of the crown, and of the thirteen we serve. What are we going to do about this useless bastards and their mangy Quintessons? They are nothing but a pack of Drain Deer, waiting to eat through energon chips made of our political bullshit so that they may take control of our situation.”

There was silence for a while, and they the King spoke.

“Your words are true, my Lady.” He dipped his head to her, stroking was remained of his bent-out-of-shape servos against his shining beard.

“Thank you, Your Grace.” She bowed her head, giving a smug look to both Magnus and to the oblivious Lord Ratbat, The King’s Master of Coin. The young Grand Maester and Commander sniggered to themselves.

The King let out a hearty laugh. “You do have a way with words, my lady, and for your honesty I commend you. None of my other council members seem to have the audacity that you bring to the table.”

They shared a laugh for moment, and they silence fell over the room when the final reaction came forward from Lord Ratbat.

Being Lord of a Keep every Cybertronian called The Labyrinth because it’s original name was much too confusing for even the Grand Maester to pronounce. Though some of the snootier Lords and Ladies of Cybertron, all of which belonged to the official faith of Cybertron, thought him mad for keeping the original name on all official documents. The true name of Lord Ratbat’s keep was a strange Quintesson word that had too many syllables to even count, and Flamewar was not keen to trying.

“Lady Chromia!” Ratbat called and the Captain of the Furies, the Queen’s elite group of female warriors made specifically to protect the Queen and any daughters she had. The Blue Lace, they called her, though Flamewar was sure that underneath all that armor there was no lace. Chromia was being stared at by all but Grand Maester Orion Pax, who was busy shuffling papers. Chromia always stood outside the heavily barred door, refusing to move from her post until ordered by a member of the small council, or her Queen.

Ratbat gave the femme a curt nod, while Ultra Magnus just glared in the direction of the Fury. Both Flamewar and Ironhide undressed Chromia with a wandering gave. The Blue Lace met everyone’s gaze with a standing stillness. “I am at your service, my Lords and Lady.”

“Retrieve our guest for me would you, my sweet Lady?”

Chromia nodded, and hurried back the way she came.

Immediately after Chromia had gotten out of earshot, King Zeta raised an optic ridge at his Master of Coin. “A guest, my Lord? I do not believe I allow those I don’t know into my court. Who is this guest-”

“Primus. . . “ Flamewar called out as a thin Seeker approached them his acid green stare moving solemnly over them all. If a Terrorcon was creepy-looking, she would swear again on the God of Light that he was creepier. His entire body was covered in a glimmer that brought both Ironhide and Flamewar’s mouths to the floor. He stood tall and elegant, and looked more royal than the little prick Turantulas would ever be.

Behind her Ironhide said some seemingly unheard comment about the young mech and his looks, causing the King to give a chuckle. The hoarse laughter from their King was a surprise to Flamewar, Zeta Prime had been seemingly depressed from the stress of the past few cycles. The sound brought a grin to her face. Though after a moment of smiling, the Mistress of Law tightened her expression, listening to the story of this young mech.

“Your Grace,” He gave a bow to the King “My Lords-” He spotted Flamewar and narrowed his eyes. She was used to that reaction, being a femme.

“And Lady, I am Ser Acid Storm, son of Lord Cyclonus and heir to Kaon, and Lord Ratbat has instructed me to inform you of the movement of these rebels.” He said the word with such distaste that Flamewar that the word itself to come flying out of his mouth on a glob of spittle.

“Continue, good Ser, I will hear everything.” The King replied, in perfect courtesy.

Ser Acid Storm nodded, his harsh stare narrowed at the small group of Lords that -even the youngest- had at least a vorn or two on him. Cybertronians lived a long time, longer than any other sentient creature their race had ever encountered, which was few compared to the amount suspected to live within the endless bounds of the universe.

“Well, this rebellion, my lords is lead by a mech going by the name of the Megatronus-”

Zeta Prime seemed agitated just at the name, and gave a huff of defiance.

“-and the only consort of his that we know of is a mech by the name of Ser Starscream, former heir to Breakpoint and the son of Lord Crystos.”

“A forgotten House.” Ironhide huffed, grumbling curses under his breath.

The young Ser cleared his throat, the commander of the Kingsguard’s jeers obviously getting to him. His acidic ivy optics remained calm though, and the Mistress of Law smirked at the motion.

“Not anymore, my Lord. Apparently my informants state that House Crystos has been simply biding it’s time since the Beast Wars. They fill this Megatronus’s ranks, calling themselves Seekers and the rightful rulers of most all of the Bright Cities.”

The exact opposite of the Wasteland Cities, the Bright Cities were the shining glory of Cybertronian and all it’s elite had to offer. Iacon, the capital of the planet was the most populous of the Bright Cities, was most certainly the most different from Kaon, the largest of the Wasteland Cities. Flamewar had only been to the large, disgusting city once during the Second Beast War, and she had hated every minute of it. The streets were lined with beggers, and though Flamewar thought that even the poor deserved a fair trial, they whole lot of them deserved nothing more than to be put out of their misery forever.

She gave a belligerent optic-roll before focusing on what the Grand Maester was saying.

“Well, my good Ser, I’m positive that this rebellion will be squashed by Ultra Magnus’s troops, and if not the good Lord will keep these rebels at bay.”

All the mechs at the table gave a grunt of approval, and the King Nodded. “You may take your leave, Ser Acid Storm, bid Lord Cyclonus my closest regards, tell him I must speak to him in person sooner rather than later.”

“I shall, Your Grace, I thank you for your time.”

With those final words the young knight hurried off, escorted by The Blue Fury and her impenetrable stare.

“My Lords and Lady, is there anything else you wish to share with this old mech, or shall the Prime-King return to his quarters?” A short laugh spread across the council meeting and almost at once they all agreed that their discussion was over and the King dismissed them with a wide grin.

Ratbat was the first to depart and both Flamewar and Commander Ironhide shared a laugh about it. Flamewar grunted though and departed soon after. Ironhide and Orion, both old friends, were too busy chatting about this and that.

“My Lady,” The Commander of the Furies spoke up as the brightly-painted Mistress of Law departed the throne room. “May I speak with you as you walk?”

Flamewar studied the Fury for a moment, her processor buzzing with information. Lady Chromia, The Blue Fury, Commander, she had so many titles the Mistress of Law was sure she was forgetting some. The Fury Commander’s armor was a gleaming cyan, and she was easily pointed out in most every crowd. The other two Furies, The Red and The Yellow where also as easily distinguishable, yet somehow Chromia stood out. She held herself high and the magnificent Enegeron blades positioned on both her hips showed all mockers that she could show them the same amount of power and prowess as any mech on the entire planet.

The Mistress of Law only knew of one mech that had been able to beat her, and that had been her fellow Commander, Ser Ironhide of the Kingsguard, and that had been a long, long time ago, and she was sure the pair had gone into different methods of training. Ironhide more one high-grade, and Chromia more with an actual weapon. Of course Ironhide was pphysically strong, otherwise he would not have been chosen to lead the famed Kingsguard.

There was one other, though, that Lady Chromia had yet to put to shame, and that was Ultra Magnus. The hardy blue and red mech was something of ghost, barely ever speaking yet causing plenty of destruction in his wake. He was too busy filing papers to come down to the training yard, and so Flamewar pegged that as the reason for him being the second exception to The Fury Commander’s winning streak.

“Of course, Lady Chromia, what is it you require of me?”

“Do not think me a fool, my Lady, you know exactly why, the Princess’s escape will be coming soon.” The Fury gave her a hard look, one of power, but deep down Flamewar saw fear, stress, all these conflicting emotions running around in just her processor.

Control. Be in Control.

This plan the Fury spoke of, was of a great magnitude, and it brought them either into the face of treason or into the face of death, either way Flamewar would happily go through with it. Flamewar’s servos curled into fists and the femme stared daggers, forcibly stopping herself from clawing at the Cyan-armored warrior. Rage a feat best served hot, she liked to say, and Flamewar could do hot, she could definitely do hot. An edged smile crept up her mouth and she gritted her dentas together.

“We will not speak of our little escapade until the moment before, isn’t that correct, my Lady?” Flamewar asked through her deep intake of breath. The rhythmic form of breathing brought her rage down to a minumun, yet she still could not forgive the Fury Commander for being as stupid as to speak of it in front of what could have been the entire court. She shook her head.

“Forgive me, My Lady.” The cyan warrior cleared her throat before turning her back to the Mistress of Law. “I must return to my duties.” The femme hurried off, leaving Flamewar to her thoughts.

Control. We must wait. One of her many sides said

Inpulse. Act now. Another ordered.

Wait for others. You require their assistance to help the Princess. Another rang back to the first two, causing Flamewar to rub her helm, already annoyed with her thoughts.

“Chromia. I need CHROMIA!” She hissed, steaming with anger. Literally- steaming. Smoke rose out of the pipes on her back and the fires within her were growing into a raging fury. She could only think between two choices: two outcomes, black and white, yet the Fury saw the gray in all situations, and it frustrated Flamewar more than anything.

Who would have thought, the Lawmaker needing a Warrior to help her think. Flamewar scoffed. What a smile that would bring to His Grace’s face.

The bench she had been sitting on began to melt in the midst of her fury.


	2. Airachnid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not Beta'd, so apologies for any mistakes/if it sounds weird :)

Spring on Cybertron, as many other organic beings would call it, was the most beautiful time of year all across the planet. Besides the festival city of Six Lasers being almost blindingly bright, Drain Deer howled in the night, their soothing songs bringing even the most troubled sleeper content recharge. The many Voltai scampered about, their biolights light up even the darkest of corners.

Not only where the sights and creatures cheerier than usual- the beings of Cybertron where much more jolly in the spring than during any other season,

The weather on Cybertron did not change much, and the Princess was grateful for that fact. Summertime, though, was a time of radioactive storms and electric surges all across the planet, especially in the wasteland cities. Kaon, Polyhex, Yuss, and Tarn’s populations decreased steadily when the season changed, as many mechs and femmes moved to other dwellings in Iacon or the other Bright Cities.

Bots of all sub-races and classes came to Iaocon, and Airachnid gave an inward wince, there had been too many reports of rape last spring, and the Princess hoped that her father, being King and all, would work harder to stop both mechs and femmes from forcing and _being forced_ into intercourse, as it usually ended in the victim being killed. It was the one factor of living in Iaocon that was a negative, almost everything else about the city was perfect in every way. Airachnid was positive, though, that her brother, Turantulas would try harder to fix that problem when he was king. _It is doubtful, though, considering he’s forced himself upon others in a similar way._

Airachnid shook her helm, clearing her processor.

 _A princess must have a clear head._ Airachnid told herself, in the strong, brave voice her mother always used when addressing any mech or femme below her, which was most everyone. The Queen was a femme of a hard stature, and Airachnid longed to be the reincarnation of her mother. Lady Flamewar, the Mistress of Law always said that if she wanted to be like her mother, Airachnid had to just simply believe in herself. Though her brother Turantulas always snickered and sneered whenever the topic of future goals for the young Princess, saying that she would be nothing but the wife of some high-ranking Lord’s son.

After those types of conversations, though, The Queen would smile and lean down to whisper to her daughter _“The Queens are the true ruler, my sweetling. And you shall be that true ruler.”_

A sigh slipped past her lips and she mouthed a few ancient words of peace Grand Maester Orion had taught her during their many nights spent studying. Spring was here, and there was no need to worry, yet Airachnid knew all there was to do _was_ worry. What else was she to do? All she could do was ask Lady Flamewar about the happenings of the council meetings, to which the Mistress of Law would answer ‘Nothing new, my sweet’ and then continuously change the subject.

It infuriated her to the highest level. After all this talk about how she would be Queen one day, not a soul would speak to her about this infamous “rebellion” going on near the wasteland cities. _If only I was born a mech. Then they would be required to tell me. I could wear a sword on my hip and kill whoever stood in my way._ She balled her fists, and stared hatefully into her mirror, examining her own, feminine armor. Although all Cybertrons wore armor, only mechs wore armor truly fit for battle. Female armor was made to show off the latest fashions, and Airachnid couldn’t help but stare longing at her own hip, where, if she only had the grace of the opposite sex, a weapon of death would have lay.

The lining in her golden armor matched the halls of the Gold Keep, and Airachnid gazed more thoughtfully into the mirror. Her head-crest was delicately made, with lines of gold alloy twirling across the surface of the obsidian inner plating. The skirt she wore was a soft lavender, just  a hue lighter than her optics, and it all made her facial features stand out. Purple optics glowed faintly, and her ebony optic ridges were perfectly curved in a similar fashion of the tips of her head-crest.

Gently the Princess rubbed the tip of her elbow, trying to ease her restless processor, when there was a sudden knock at the door.

“Princess?” Lady Firestar’s, the Red Fury’s voice rang out into her room.

“Whoever it is, send them in, Firestar.” Airachnid replied, voice meek but polite.

When Lady Flamewar and the Queen entered, Airachnid smiled softly and moved to greet them. The Mistress of Law stared into the flames hungrily, unbeknownst to the Queen. Over the years of knowing the femme, Airachnid had found she had a strange obsession with fire, and burning those who broke the law to the highest extreme. Besides the fact that almost every piece of clothing she wore bore the sigil of her House, bright flames clawing at the body of a cybertronian, Flamewar was anything but recognized as an actual member of House Alystar. House Alystar was an old, humble house, at least that’s what she learned from Grand Maester Orion during their many study sessions. The first Lord Alystar had been a pyromancer for one of the ancient Predator Kings, and was raised by that same king

It was rather intimidating, if Airachnid had to be truthful. The flames seemed to move in the firelight, and the young Princess could barely comprehend the terror that she must strike into the criminals she tried every day.

On the complete opposite of the spectrum, though, Queen Elita bore similar resemblance to the many maidens she read about in her stories. Her optics shown a bright blue and her outfit was as pink as pink could be. White accents adorned her armor and gold lining traced over her hips. Airachnid had been too busy admiring her mother’s dress to notice that the pink Queen was speaking.

“How are you today, sweetling? Is everything alright?” Her mother asked, kissing her lightly on the forehead, the Queen letting her arms rest softly against her own.

The warm beating of her mother’s spark beside her own gave the young princess comfort, and she let out a breath she did not know she’d been holding. Against her better judgement, Airachnid gave her mother a tight, almost scared smile. If this was her most trusted family member in all of House One and in all of House Tibeerus, then why was she lying to her own blood? To the femme who carried her small form to the Well of Allsparks until it was her naming day. To the femme who had risked both Airachnid’s life and her own so that the Princess could enter the world.

Why? How could she lie to her?

On the other hand, though, who could she trust? Why should she trust anyone?   _No one. Trust no one._ She thought savagely. _Turantulas has taught me this at least._

“I am well, mother, I am sure that you are doing well, what with the young Prince waiting away inside you.” Another forced smile came into play.

Her mother seemed to believe the act for now, but Flamewar was not impressed. Her molten optics stared into Airachnid’s, sending a shiver down her spinal column.

“Ha, yes, my sweetling. Your brother is quickly growing, and I fear soon Flamewatch and Ivory will have even less time in their busy day as I sit in my berth complaining.” The room shared a a laugh, even the two aforementioned bedmaids. All but Firestar smiled. The firey femme was busy staring out into the hallway, looking rather intimidating in bright red-and-orange armor.

“Do you know when my newest sibling shall be coming to join us? I am sure he will not remain in there forever, correct?” The princess asked once more, in perfect courtesy.

The Queen’s eyes seemed to lower and dim, and Airachnid wondered if her mother was displeased with the fact of having three children instead of only two. Of course it grew less and less rowdy every cycle as the Prince and Princess grew into the roles that were destined for them their entire lives.

“Ah, my sweet Airachnid, I truly loathe the day.” Several strange looks met the Queens gentle blue optics. “Not entirely, of course, but I fear telling my brothers. Lord Sunstreaker and Lord Sideswipe surely do know how to throw an exceptional party.

The Princess had only been to one of her Uncles’ magnificent parties and it had truly been outstanding, but after Turantulas had taken the maidenhood of a random young femme, Queen Elita had declared that until they were both a femme and mech of proper age, they would go to no more festivities at Light’s Keep.

All she cared to remembered where bright lights and loud music from all around her. Airachnid felt dizzy at the thought of it. Bright lights, loud music, and High Grade were not a good combination for the Princess.

“That is true, mother, Uncle Sunstreaker and Uncle Sideswipe are sure to be remembered for the exceptional festivities they provided during their lifetimes.” Another short, awkward laugh filled the air.

“It is, my sweet. But, I must have my leave now. I pray I have not preoccupied your plans by much? Ser Smokescreen said he was taking you on a tour of the newest addition to the Hanging Gardens?” Queen Elita stood, smiling softly down at her daughter and then turning to the other femmes who filled the room.

 _Trust no one. All but mother are you enemies._ “Yes, of course mother.” The rather happy thought of spending time with Ser Smokescreen of the Kingsguard brought a genuine smile to her face. The young knight enjoyed spending time with both the Prince and Princess. Taking walks and riding were just two of her favorite activities to do with the young Ser.

“Really? I trust that you will be safe with him. You must go speak to Grand Maester Orion about the Hanging Gardens, I remember a special tale he once told to your brothe-”

“I know it mother, I have read plenty on it. It was where every Predator King was born.” Airachnid interrupted, bowing her head to her mother.

A pained smile fell across the Queen’s lips, looking down at the mirroring floor and then back up at her daughter. “Of course you do, my smart girl. I wish you good fun.”

And then she left.

After Flamewatch, Ivory, the Queen, and her own bedmaids had left to perform one of their many duties, only the Mistress of Law remained.

After what seemed like vorns of silence, the brightly-painted femme spoke up. “My sweet Princess, you remembered what we spoke about earlier?” An optic ridge was raised by both.

“Of course I do, Lady Flamewar.” Again in perfect courtesy, a hint of annoyance plucked at her voice.

“And?”

“What do you mean, Lady Flamewar?” Airachnid held back a hiss.

“Do not play the damsel, sweetling. What did I tell you? I wish to hear it spoken from your own lips.”

“You said I shall have my day.”

“And you shall, my sweet, sooner than you’ve ever imagined.”

“Wondrous, my Lady. I shall await it.”

Once the Mistress of Law departed, the Princess was alone for not even a cycle before the gleaming young Ser Smokescreen arrived at her chamber doors with a Bioflau in hand. The dark red biolight chippings that floated just a bit over it’s metallic stem gave off a pale light that reflected off his gleaming white armor. A grin was on his face, the stupid kind, mad with love, all for her. Her one indulgence, the only lie she had ever kept from her family, and that made every moment of being near him absolutely spectacular. Her spark thumped as she returned the silly grin, optics brightening to a pale pink, and her faceplates heated when the young knight place a kiss on her servos.

“How has m’Lady been lately?” He asked, quite boisterously, but leaned closer after a moment, and spoke again. “Has she missed her gallant young knight?”

Airachnid gasped and hit him in the chest for that comment, but she leaned forward to wrap her thin arms around his torso. “She has. Very much.”

The two shared a laugh, Ser Smokescreen moving to rest his servos on her hips as they shared the presence of each other’s spark-beats. There was no other feeling quite like hearing his beating spark beside her own, and eventually the steady thumping synchronized and the two let out a sigh of enjoyment.

“We are supposed to be out walking, my gallant knight.”

“Yes, well.” He cleared his throat awkwardly and shifted momentarily.

“That was not a request for you to let go of me, good Ser.” Smokescreen shook his head, laughing, and offered her his arm instead.

“Well then, the gardens await, I heard that the Voltai are let loose during the day to roam. There are even Kaonite Coppers, your favorite.” He winked at her, grinning once more like the fool he was.

“Interesting, then. I do remembering spying a Vossian Vivid on my last visit with Ser Thundercracker.” She stated as they began to walk, arm-in-arm.

“Oh? So you are cheating on me with the Winged Knight, eh? Well then, We’ll just have to see about that, my sweet Princess.” Smokescreen gave a soft tut-tut and shook his finger at her.

“Of shush yourself, or shall I call you the jealous knight instead of the gallant one? I’m positive the Winged Knight would not be as jealous, he does have Lady Lyzak to keep him company.” Airachnid was fond of the green Seeker, and lady-wife to the Winged Knight. She was quiet and shy, yet got people’s attention with simply a call. She was easy to talk to, and fun to listen to.

“Lyzak? Aye, I couldn’t tell you how many sparklings were spawned from her, all of House Crystos. Wing’s sure does have a way with femmes.”

Airachnid shook her head, and met his eyes for a moment, there optics locked but there feet continued to move. The young knight ginned at her, his back-wings twitching in delight. They were an odd appendage, that was for sure, and like Ser Thundercracker’s Wings, they twitched when he experienced a spike of any emotion. Airachnid was puzzled in this, of course, all Praxians had the odd, practically useless appendages strutting out from their backs, any and all books she had read on them had told her nothing more than she already knew. The princess washed her eyes over his lean, gleaming white armor, and ended on the energon blade that rested diligently on his hip.

 _“I shall call it Sparkache, for that is what I feel every time I must use it. The only time an ache does not fill me as I swing this blade is when I am protecting you, my sweet Princess, and I am not afraid to say it will remain that way forever.”_  The memory of his proclamation of love for her warmed her entire body, and she squeezed his arm tighter, a thin-lipped smile forming. She couldn’t help herself from smiling in his presence, he always seemed to bring her joy, and carry a bubbly air about him.

Her servos played aimlessly with the Bioflau, her thoughts wandering as they walked towards their destination.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoy the story, please follow this blog! http://asongofsparksandenergon.tumblr.com


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